


Send me dead flowers to my wedding

by Hazel75



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Karaoke, New Orleans, Prompt Fill, Skoulson RomFest 2k15, silliness, skoulsonfest2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/pseuds/Hazel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter hatches a plan to bring Skye and Coulson together.  Surprisingly, it succeeds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send me dead flowers to my wedding

He had known that Bobbi was the weak link in his plan.  He should have known better than to trust her not to muck everything up.  On purpose.  When she agreed so quickly, he should have known she was just letting him climb higher so that he'd have that much further to fall when she kicked the ladder out from under him. 

 

*******************

 

Hunter had been waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself, and finally Fate had smiled on him.  He, Coulson, Bobbi and Skye had come to New Orleans to intercept a shipment of weapons intended for HYDRA at the Port of New Orleans.  Wonder of wonders, the op had gone smoothly, the bad guys were turned over to the Army, the weapons were headed back to SHIELD and the good guys had walked away with nary a scratch or a bruise.  Well, nary a scratch or a bruise if one didn't count the injury to his forehead when he failed to note a low doorway on the ship which housed the contraband.  It hurt like hell, and, in his opinion, neither Bobbi or Skye had shown the proper concern or sympathy for an injured teammate.  No one even offered to check it out, much less find him something for the pain.  Good thing he's not the type to hold a grudge. 

 

Hunter had an inkling that any suggested change in plans would meet a better reception from the women than him.  So after the op, he'd managed to plant the seed with Bobbi that a night off in New Orleans would do Skye some good (poor girl had been under so much stress as of late); with Skye, he'd suggested that Coulson could use a break, pointing out how ragged and old he was looking lately.  Skye scoffed at the idea that Coulson was looking poorly (because, of course, she did), but she took the bait.  As expected, though, the ladies convinced Coulson that nothing would do but that they have a night out on the town. 

 

All he had needed was few minutes alone, and thanks to the wonders of the internet and smartphones he was able to quickly plan the perfect romantic night in the French Quarter -- dinner at a fantastically romantic restaurant, followed by a carriage ride around historic Jackson Square, then beignets and coffee at Cafe Du Monde with the night to end at a cozy, little jazz club on Frenchmen's Street.  And if that didn't work he was prepared to physically press Skye and Coulson's faces together.  Sometimes even Fate needs a helping hand. 

 

********************

 

After a muttered "just go with it" to Bobbi when Coulson and Skye weren't looking, he jumped into a very believable and elaborate story about how New Orleans had been where he and Bobbi had first fell in love and how it would mean so much to the both of them if they could repeat a particularly significant night in their relationship tonight seeing as how they had rekindled their romance.  Bobbi, whom he'd rightly figured would be game (she's just as much a romantic as he), had thrown herself into the role, giving him smoldering looks and rubbing his arm suggestively.  When Skye had asked why they would want her and Coulson tagging along for this, he hadn't faltered but instead explained how it would bring him and Bobbi such joy to share their happiness with two people so significant in their lives.  Skye and Coulson had both given him weird looks (thankfully neither of them was as perceptive as he) but acquiesced. 

 

Dinner had gone well.  Google hadn't failed him in suggesting Arnaud's as a romantic and historic restaurant to visit.  The food was great, the setting was old world elegant and the conversation, well, Hunter couldn't have been more ecstatic about relaxed and cordial everyone (read: Coulson, Skye and Bobbi -- he was always relaxed and cordial) was.

 

It was as they were finishing dessert that Bobbi's true nature revealed itself. 

 

"You know, Hunter, I just had the best idea.  It would be so much fun to share another one of our favorite activities here in New Orleans." 

 

Fool that he is, he had had the notion that maybe, just maybe, Bobbi and he were psychically-linked and she was going to suggest a carriage ride.  Nothing could have been further from reality. 

 

"Sure, pet."  He had covered her hand with his, thanking the stars for giving him such a willing and insightful partner-in-crime. 

 

Bobbi had put on her most winning smile and given Coulson and Skye significant looks.

 

And that's when disaster had struck. 

 

"You're going to love this, Skye.  Karaoke."       

 

He had managed to cover up his discomfiture masterfully.  He didn't choke for long on the sip of wine in his mouth.  And he had plastered a smile on his face and nodded as Bobbi informed Skye and Coulson how much the two of them loved to sing. 

 

Very casually, he had suggested that Coulson probably wasn't much of a karaoke fan and maybe, perhaps there was something else he'd rather do, like go listen to jazz on Frenchmen's Street.  But Coulson had only smiled and said karaoke sounded interesting, and he looked forward to hearing him and Bobbi perform.  There had been nothing Hunter could do but go along and so he did.   

 

******************  

 

And that was how Hunter found himself at a bar bearing the unlikely name of the Kajun Pub.

 

They had found a table close to the stage, and a server had already come to take their drink order. 

 

"Hunter, are you going to sing our song tonight?" Bobbi's engaging smile makes him want to fume.  But he doesn't because he's a professional.   

 

"Of course, sweet, I only hope they have 'Dead Flowers' on the playlist." 

 

"He's so funny.  His sense of humor is what I first fell in love with.  Hunter used to sing me 'Lady in Red.'  I wore a red dress on our first real date, and he's so sentimental."  Bobbi pats his leg affectionately. 

 

She's not the only one who can play this game.  "Yeah, and Bobbi always sings 'The Wind Beneath My Wings' for me.  Because I am.  Or was.  The wind beneath her wings, that is.  Poor bit wanted to sing it at our wedding, but I insisted on only traditional church music.  She was so disappointed that I made it our first dance.  We used to love Bette Midler and all that sap, back in the early days."  He sighs. 

 

"Yeah, and now it's all 'Where Did Our Love Go' -- what?  I know music, too." Skye says when they all turn to look at her.  "And while it sounds like you two already know what you're going to do, let's go get some books so I can pick out my stuff.  I haven't done this in years."  

 

As the ladies leave to search out binders, Hunter sips his beer, letting the wheels turn in his mind.  He's thinking that if he plays his cards right, there might be a way to turn this situation to his advantage.  And, besides, there's no reason not to enjoy himself now that he's here.  Bobbi wasn't wrong; he does enjoy a good karaoke night every now and then. 

 

Leaning forward, he asks, "So, Coulson, what're you going to do?" 

 

"Do?  I'm pretty sure as the director of SHIELD I don't do karaoke." 

 

"C'mon, mate, take off your director hat for a night.  Pretend you're just Phil Coulson, middle-aged man out with his young girlfriend."  That earns him a glare.

 

Hunter shrugs.  "I dunno, Undercover Phil looked fairly fun.  And, regardless, you may have fooled everyone else, but you haven't fooled me.  I've seen the way you gaze, excuse me, look at her."  He gives Coulson a meaningful leer.  " _You_ might not have noticed, but she looks at you the same way.  Loosen up, mate, just be a man, for once." 

 

"Hunter, first, I'm not your 'mate'.  Secondly, this conversation is over.  When I want your opinion on life -- and I can't imagine when I might want your opinion on anything -- I'll ask for it.  Last word on this subject.  Understand?"  Coulson's acting annoyed, but Hunter knows that he's merely covering up the deep pain he feels because he believes his love is unrequited.  He's lucky to have a friend like Hunter, who takes such an interest in the happiness of the lonely and awkward.

 

"Just trying to help." 

 

Skye and Bobbi return with two huge books of songs. 

 

Skye's getting into the spirit, which of course she is -- there's not a woman around who doesn't love karaoke.  Equally unsurprising, Coulson's more reticent; the man takes himself too seriously by half.  But that's okay.  Hunter's confident he can overcome the man's reluctance with the appropriate amount of alcohol and some subtle steering.  And subtlety's his specialty.  The last ingredient will be the perfect song, and he's already got some great ideas. 

 

As usual, Bobbi's hogging their book; he always has to beg to get even a few minutes with it.  And while he can be the very picture of patience, he has a mission tonight, a mission she's been trying to thwart because heaven forfend she not try to blot out any sunlight in his life.  She's going to have to share and soon.  He gives her a few more minutes and then says, "All right, then, that's enough.  My turn." 

 

She very ungraciously plops it in front of him and says, "Anything for you, poopy-pants.  Is there anything else you'd like?"

 

"Actually, I think we could use another round of beers next time the server comes by.  Thanks, pet." 

 

He flips through the book, considering and rejecting several songs before he finds just what he was looking for.  It's surely a sign: Lady Luck is smiling on him tonight.  He fills out a slip of paper with the relevant information, then fills out one for himself (no reason for him not to enjoy himself) and hands them to Bobbi. 

 

"Be a dear, and take these up when you take up the others." 

 

She glances at the slips (she's nosy which he figures is why she's a spy) and raises her eyebrows as she reads the last one.

 

She leans over towards him, speaking in a hushed voice.  "Hunter, I think I see what you're trying to accomplish here, but is this really the right course of action?  This is a little much, don't you think?"  She glances over at Skye and Coulson, who are having an animated discussion about Skye's potential song choices. 

 

"No, it's just enough.  These two need all the help they can get, especially since you so willfully mucked up my original plan.  Otherwise, they run the very real risk of dying alone, forever dancing around each other, but never meeting in the middle, like two ships passing in the night.  And they both could use some happiness, wouldn't you say?"  

 

"Mix metaphors much, Hunter?" She shakes her head.  "It's your funeral."

 

"Just put it towards the back so I have time to get some more alcohol in them."

 

***********************

 

It's a slow night at the Kajun Pub so it doesn't take too long for their songs to start coming up.  Bobbi's gotten Skye to join her for a rousing rendition of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" (so predictable).  Hunter's pleased to see that Skye doesn't seem to have any problem with the stage.  She can be a rather closed-off girl (which who can blame her -- look at her life), but apparently it doesn't extend to this, which is a relief because Coulson desperately needs someone to show him some fun every now and then.  And her voice isn't half-bad, which is a relief.  Bobbi couldn't carry a tune in a bucket although what she lacks in talent she tries to make up for in enthusiasm.  It's very endearing. 

 

Coulson seems to have taken his advice, leaning back in his chair, tapping a foot and sipping on a beer.  This is a good sign although Hunter figures a round or two of shots would probably do him even better.  He snags the server and orders a few rounds of jello shots.  New Orleans is a beautiful place -- where else can one expect almost any bar to have jello shots on the menu. 

 

Skye and Bobbi come back as his order arrives.  Skye looks at the little paper cups and curls her lip at him.  "How old are you?  20?"

 

Coulson turns down Hunter's generous offer as well, of course.  Hunter has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

 

But Bobbi comes to his aid, giving him a wink and a half-smile before picking up a cup and running her finger around the inside to loosen the shot before swallowing it.  "C'mon, live a little." 

 

Bobbi succeeds where he might have failed. (For some reason, people find her persuasive; he can't imagine why.)  Coulson shrugs and picks up a shot.  Hunter has to admire his technique -- doesn't even use his finger, just his tongue.  It's obviously not his first rodeo although Hunter finds it hard to believe that jello shots were around when Coulson was the appropriate age to imbibe. 

 

He can see he's not the only one who's impressed; Skye's jaw has dropped a bit.  When she notices him looking at her, he gives her a wink to let her know he's got her back.  She scrambles to cover, squishing her own shot in her mouth and then choking a bit.  Hunter grimaces, nothing sexy about that.  But Coulson doesn't mind, smiling fondly at her as he rubs her back until she stops coughing. 

 

Bobbi leans over.  "You're smarter than you look." 

 

He just nods.  "Thanks for the help.  Those two." 

 

They both shake their heads. 

 

********************

 

Skye's turn arrives and she performs a fairly convincing "La Isla Bonita", a good choice for karaoke, Hunter thinks.  He has to suffer through a few other tossers first, but he finally gets his chance to contribute.  As always, he steals the show; Mick Jagger himself couldn't have done "Dead Flowers" better.    

 

When he gets back to the table, the conversation has picked up significantly.  They appear to be arguing about who sang it best, with "Lean on Me" as the topic.  Skye and Coulson are siding with Bill Withers while Bobbi is arguing in favor of Club Nouveau.  (Music is one of the many things Bobbi gets wrong.)  He notices the rest of the shots are gone, which has probably contributed to the change in atmosphere.  Coulson's surprisingly knowledgeable about music and soon Hunter finds himself in his own argument about who did it better, 'The Passenger', Iggy Pop or Siouxie & the Banshees.

 

"Now, listen, Coulson, normally I'd side with the Brits, but here it's no question that Iggy wins.  I mean both versions are great, but the original is the classic.  Maybe if the cover had _transformed_ the song more but--

 

Skye interrupts his excellent analysis.  "Hey Coulson, I didn't know you put a song in?" 

 

Coulson immediately shoots a look at Hunter, which he thinks is rather unfair (it could have been Bobbi).  "I didn't.  Hunter?" 

 

Hunter shrugs it off.  "Better hurry.  It's bad form to be a no-show when it's your turn.  You don't want to look like a total git, do you?"  He glances significantly in Skye's direction, hoping Coulson gets his point. 

 

He must have because he makes a rather desperate face towards Skye, growling, "You're fired, Hunter," before stalking off towards the stage.  Hunter's sure he's kidding.   

 

He knows when the song title comes up because he can see Coulson mouth _you fucker_ straight at him.  He knows then that he picked the right song and shoots Bobbi a self-congratulatory look. 

 

Skye starts laughing as the words to Carole King's "I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet" start flowing from Coulson's mouth.  He's a little stiff and hesitant but his voice isn't nearly as bad as Hunter had expected -- kind of lounge-singeresque but it works with the song.  At first, his face alternates between pissed-off and embarrassed as he looks from Hunter to Skye.  Then, he must resign himself to his fate because he commits to the song. 

 

Coulson's no Frank Sinatra; he's still an awkward middle-aged man overdressed for the venue.  But he's letting the corners of his mouth turn up as he gazes (and he does so gaze) at Skye and sings about losing control and the sky tumblin' down, a tumblin' down.  (Hunter _knew_ this song was perfect -- Carole might have written it for these two).  Looking over at Skye, he realizes just how spot-on he was -- she's no longer laughing -- and Hunter's heard the phrase so happy one could cry before but he's never seen anyone look like that until now.  He almost sure Skye will break out into tears any moment now.  Or maybe he's being overly dramatic (people have made that accusation about him in the past), but he can't help it.  He's been rooting for these two so hard for so long.  Anyway, he's fairly sure she's very happy. 

 

Bobbi apparently agrees with him, though, because she whispers in his ear, "I think your work here is done." 

 

The song finishes, and he lets loose a few catcalls for good measure.  As Coulson walks back to the table, shaking his head ruefully, Hunter feels his chair move, shaking, and then his ass is on the floor. 

 

Everyone else, of course, thinks it's hilarious.  And he's prepared to play the prat because he's a good sport.  It's possible he might even admit he deserves it a little. 

 

"You're supposed to do that to him," he says, pointing at Coulson, "not me."

   

Coulson puts a hand on Skye's shoulder and bends down to talk to her, and they're talking too quietly for Hunter to hear, which he thinks is rather rude.  But Hunter can understand if they think they need a private moment.

 

When they finish talking, Coulson says, "Not that this hasn't been a unique and interesting experience, but Skye and I are headed over to Frenchmen's Street to see if we can find some New Orleans jazz.  You two can join or you can stay here and serenade each other with Bette Midler songs." 

 

Hunter doesn't need to be asked twice; he signals for the server to bring the check.  They may say that virtue is its own reward but, as for him (and he's feeling quite lucky tonight), a much better reward would be to catch these two snogging in a dark corner.  

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Rolling Stones "Dead Flowers", which isn't really appropriate, but I used it anyway. Carole King's "I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet" (which is PERFECT) can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbQ4m-NqeF8


End file.
